"Freewrite: shameful bodies"
I am not this body, she is my vessel! She just wears my face temporarily, until I can remember. It’s to much to remember all at once, can better embrace and absorb, breaking it a part in a process. But I don’t remember that either. It seems I like to remember along the way, my body still getting use to the idea but it’s thrilling not knowing. Clearly living life on the edge without anyone really knowing. Without the performance or announcement of validation. All the magic happens from the inside and I can feel me. I was running on the treadmill at the gym and I literally felt as if, I was sitting cRoss legged inside my chest feeling my legs pump up and down. In my mind’s eye I catch an image of myself, smile on my face and eyes closed as I breathe in the oxygen necessary to keep up pace. Aware of my feet as it eats the path before me. It only lasted a couple minutes but now I m getting into the habit of looking for myself from the inside. It’s so easy to get distracted by the outside world and sometimes when I look in the mirror that’s all I see. All I feel is the harsh way the people i love, love me back or the trust that needs developed to really let go. Looking for the reason for the lack of respect I have for my own boundries, I was brought back to that day in the gym when I was 9 years old. The day I felt betrayed by my body and very confused. I was taught to treat this body in such a disposable way. It didn’t help that I had severe eczema and no one wanted to be my friend. I talked to the red cow and chased butterflies, never feeling good enough, always ashamed because I knew eventually they’ll find something wrong with me. Peeling skin, big nose, boys didn’t like me because I was to skinny or it was the spaces in my teeth that disturbed them. I know I m not the only female with body shame but now that I m feeling myself in a different way, I can see this body for what it really is. My compartment, my gift! I am the ghost in the shell of my dreams, designed with this journey in mind. Graceful and strong we mend our wounds, giving us the opportunity to be closer than ever. Creating our own secret language to better remember for the next time.
Journalistic Writing